Being diagnosed with a mental illness can be devastating just as being diagnosed with any number of other more “physical” illnesses can be and many times there is a grieving process. The five stages of grief, according to psychiatrist Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance and they follow in this order. When I was first diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and also OCD my first instinct was to deny the reality of my illness. My mind would not easily accept my diagnosis and my thoughts went something like this, “There is nothing wrong with you, you’re probably just going through a ruff spot, you’ll get over it.” Thoughts along the lines of, “Why don’t you just snap out of it and stop acting like you’re sick, you’re just faking it, you can stop whenever you want, you probably just want attention,” haunted me and fed my denial. Then came anger and it came with a vengeance. I was angry and I was blaming everyone around me; God, my friends, and my family were all targets. I wanted to know why I had to be the one with Bipolar Disorder, why did I have to be the one to live with OCD for a lifetime. I was mad at the universe for handing me down these diagnoses. For what reason, I had dreams and hopes for the future and at this point in my life these dreams and hopes were being crushed by my debilitating diseases and I was beyond mad or angry. I was furious. While the anger has since passed for the most part that doesn’t mean that I don’t have days where it rears its ugly head again. After anger comes bargaining and this may be the shortest stage that I had to encounter. I bargained with God. I asked him to please cure me. I promised him I would be a better person if he just took away my disease. I thought to myself, “If you had just been a better person this wouldn’t have happened to you.” While of course this isn’t true; in the moment it felt possible. And then, the worst stage of them all, depression. Depression hit and it hit hard. There were days I could barely pull myself out of bed to work. There were days I barely eat and there were days I slept for over half the day. I was more than sad about my diagnosis I was crushed. I was completely and utterly dismayed. I was despondent. I have since moved on to the last stage of grief, acceptance, however this does not mean that I don’t visit the other stages from time to time as it’s impossible to completely accept something so permanent. Acceptance is the ultimate goal of course and it is of course the most peaceful of the stages. Once you can finally accept your mental illness, this is when you can begin to move on. You can begin the healing process, but this is when the real work begins. This is when you have to take your life back.